Southern Charm | wlw

4

The night air was thick with possibility as Aspen slid into the driver's seat of her Denali, the engine roaring to life beneath her. She tapped the wheel with excitement, glancing over as Maya hopped into the passenger side, eyes wide with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Aspen grinned, catching her friend's nervous expression. "What's the matter, California?" she teased. "Not used to a little Southern horsepower?"

Maya shot her a smirk. "I'm just not sure if I'm about to hit a party or go off-roading through a cornfield."

"Oh, please," Aspen laughed, revving the engine for effect. "You know I'd never take you to a cornfield. Well... not tonight, anyway." She winked. 

They shared a laugh, the anticipation building as Aspen cranked up the music, filling the car with bass that seemed to match the wild beat of their hearts. "Hold on tight!" she said shifting into gear. "Welcome to your first official night out with Georgia's finest."

They drove through the San Diego streets, the lights blurring past, music booming from the speakers, and laughter filling the car. Aspen felt a sense of freedom that she hadn't experienced in a while. There was something about being in a new city, with fresh opportunities and no one telling her how to act or what to do.

Aspen rocked a country-inspired look with a bold, slightly rugged edge. She wore a fitted, dark denim jacket over a crisp white T-shirt that clung just right. Her jeans were classic and straight-legged, faded from wear, with a few artful rips across the knees. She'd chosen a well-worn leather belt with a silver buckle that added a bit of rough charm, and a pair of scuffed, dark brown cowboy boots that hinted at long days out in the country. To top it all off, she wore a black trucker hat turned backward, giving her a laid-back, no-nonsense vibe.

Maya, meanwhile, leaned into her vintage aesthetic, choosing a cropped, olive-green bomber jacket over a graphic band tee, its faded print almost unrecognizable. She paired it with high-waisted, light-wash jeans that had a bit of flair at the ankles, cinched with a thin, vintage leather belt. Her accessories added extra character—a pair of large, round hoop earrings, several silver rings, and a patch-covered crossbody bag that swung at her hip. She finished the look with white platform sneakers and a bold red lipstick that matched her daring spirit.

By the time they arrived, the frat house was already buzzing with activity. They parked on the street, and Aspen slid her arm through Maya's as they headed inside. The faint, salty breeze from the ocean mingled with the unmistakable scents of cheap beer and someone's expensive cologne as they pushed through the front door and into the pulsing crowd.

Aspen wasted no time in grabbing a drink, while Maya hesitated, eyes scanning the room nervously. But Aspen's confidence was contagious, and before long, Maya relaxed, finding her own rhythm among the crowd. Together, they laughed, danced, and swapped stories with other students, making memories out of fleeting moments.

At one point, Aspen turned to Maya, a mischievous look in her eye. "Let's do shots!" she shouted over the music.

Maya's eyes widened. "Are you trying to kill me, Georgia girl?"

"Only if you can't keep up, California!" Aspen retorted with a grin, leading the way to the makeshift bar where a collection of liquor bottles gleamed in the dim light.

A few shots in, Aspen's laughter became contagious, echoing over the music as she took Maya by the hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. "Last one dancing has to buy brunch tomorrow!" Aspen shouted, eyes glinting with mischief.

Maya scoffed, shooting her an incredulous look. "You mean when we're both in bed until two?"

Aspen cackled, giving Maya a dramatic spin. "You keep up the sass, California, and I might just make you dance to country all night."

Maya gasped in mock horror, clutching her heart. "You wouldn't dare! I swear I'll make you regret it with back-to-back Taylor Swift."

"Oh, you're on, Swiftie!" Aspen laughed, bumping her hip against Maya's as they danced.

They moved to the beat with wild abandon, shimmying and shouting the lyrics wrong on purpose, feeling invincible as they did the worst robot dances imaginable. Aspen felt the heady thrill of throwing caution—and maybe a little dignity—to the wind. It was just like her wild nights back home, but something was different. She felt lighter, like she was leaving everything but the music and laughter behind, free as ever.

But as the night wore on, the room started to blur, and Aspen could feel herself losing her grip. She stumbled, clutching Maya's arm as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Maybe... maybe I need a minute," she mumbled, blinking slowly as she tried to focus on Maya's face. Her vision swam, and she could barely make out Maya's worried expression through the haze.

"Come on, I think it's time to go," Maya said, her tone gentle but firm as she put her arm around Aspen, guiding her toward the door.

Aspen's legs felt like jelly, and she struggled to stay upright, her feet barely cooperating. The cold air hit her as they stepped outside, but it did little to clear her head. Maya was trying to lead her to the Denali, but Aspen's sense of direction was completely gone. Her head lolled to one side, her words slurred.

"I don't... don't feel so good," she muttered, leaning heavily on Maya.

Suddenly, another pair of hands joined Maya's, steadying Aspen. She squinted through her bleary vision, trying to make out who it was, but her vision was too blurry. She caught a glimpse of long, dark hair and an oversized hoodie, but that was all.

"Thanks," Maya said to the stranger, her voice filled with relief. "I didn't think I could get her back on my own."

"No worries," the girl replied, her voice calm and reassuring. "I've been there before."

With the unknown girl's help, they maneuvered Aspen into the passenger seat of her Denali. Aspen leaned back, eyes half-closed and head spinning, letting out a groggy sigh as Maya leaned over to buckle her seatbelt.

Aspen squinted up at her, managing a lazy grin. "Don't you dare wreck my truck, California," she slurred, wagging a shaky finger in Maya's direction. "She's my baby."

Maya stifled a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Relax, girl, your precious truck is safe. Just don't throw up in it, alright?"

The stranger chuckled, giving Aspen a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, no promises on that one."

As they pulled away from the curb, Aspen glanced at the stranger, trying to focus through the haze. She could only make out a soft smile and warm eyes, and she felt an unexpected sense of comfort wash over her. She tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Exhaustion settled over her, and she let her eyes drift shut, surrendering to the heaviness.

The drive back was a blur. She vaguely felt Maya's hand on her shoulder, a grounding presence as they navigated the city streets. When they finally reached the dorm, Maya and the stranger worked together to help Aspen out of the car, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night.

Somehow, they got her inside, and as she lay down on her bed, she felt Maya pull a blanket over her. She murmured a soft "thank you" as sleep began to claim her. Just before she drifted off, she heard Maya speaking softly to the unknown girl.

"Thanks again. I don't know how I'd have managed without you."

"No problem," came the reply. "Make sure she drinks some water in the morning. And maybe no more shots for a while."

A gentle laugh, a closing door, and Aspen was out, the night's memories slipping away like sand through her fingers. But one image lingered in her mind—a blurry, comforting presence and a quiet voice that somehow made the unfamiliar feel safe.